


Dreams Unwind

by DRHPaints



Series: Clark and Rhiannon [1]
Category: Bill Hader - Fandom, Clark Honus - Fandom, Doc Now - Fandom, Documentary Now - Fandom, Documentary Now! (TV 2015)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Grinding, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: Clark Honus hires Rhiannon to be his maid. Developing an unspoken attraction for one another, eventually Clark asks Rhiannon to accompany him to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony.
Relationships: Clark Honus/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Clark and Rhiannon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954567
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are curious, the title comes from a lyric in the song ‘Rhiannon’ by Fleetwood Mac. For obvious reasons.

Pulling up to the massive gate, in retrospect Rhiannon wished she at least took the time to wash her beat up Ford Taurus as she glanced out at the perfectly manicured landscaping and pressed the buzzer.

“Yeah, who is it?” A familiar Chicagoan accent radiated from the call box.

Leaning out of her window, Rhiannon cleared her throat. “Yes, hello. I’m here about the housekeeping position. I have an appointment.”

“Oh yeah, right.” His voice paused. “Come on up. Just park anywhere.” Winding her way up the seemingly endless driveway, the mansion rose over the horizon, a monolith of smooth white walls and windows glittering in the Malibu sunshine. Shifting into park, Rhiannon grabbed her purse and looked down at her khakis and polo, feeling tragically underdressed as she walked toward the impressive abode. 

Ready and holding the door open for her, Clark smiled as she approached. “Come on in.” Wearing a white linen shirt and pants, Rhiannon felt a little less self-conscious about her outfit as she followed him to the sunken living room. Gesturing for her to take a seat on a beige leather couch, Rhiannon was struck by how much taller he was than she imagined as he settled across from her in a round white leather chair, sitting back, relaxed with his legs open.

“So, yeah, I’m looking for a maid.” Clark began, scratching under his nose. Crimson haired and curvy, though the young woman was endlessly fidgeting, Clark instantly noted her appeal. 

Rhiannon was trying to remain present, doing everything in her power not to come off as a star-struck fan girl, to project professionalism, but this was _Clark-fucking-Honus_ of the Blue Jean Committee, quite possibly one of her favorite bands, and the fact that she was sitting in his luxurious living room while he casually discussed a job he offered, was mind boggling.

“Nothing fancy, really. As long as you can do a good job.” Shrugging, Clark waved a hand. “I got no problem with it.” 

Rhiannon nodded. “Great, well, um…” Rifling in her purse, she extracted a piece of paper. “Here’s...here’s my resume, Mr. Honus.” Standing up, Rhiannon walked it over to him, willing her hand not to shake as Clark accepted it.

Eyes glancing down the sheet, a wide smile spread over his light pink lips. “Rhiannon, eh? Like the song?” 

Accent especially strong when Clark said her name, Rhiannon grinned. “Yeah, my parents are both big Fleetwood Mac fans. I actually got to see them during the _Say You Will_ tour in high school. I remember Stevie Nicks on the stage, her bracelets glittering, it was magical…” Realizing she babbled, Rhiannon forced herself to shut up and felt a blush rising in her cheeks.

Trying to ignore words like ‘parents’ and ‘high school,’ much less doing the math in his head, Clark grinned. “Yeah, Stevie is great. Lindsey too, all of them. They put on a hell of a show.” He nodded, scanning the rest of her resume.

“Oh yeah, I suppose you would know, sir.” Rhiannon grinned, holding out a hand.

Shrugging humbly, Clark held up the paper. “Well, this all looks good enough to me.” The corners of his lips turned down appraisingly as he set it on the glass coffee table. “If you could come Tuesdays and Fridays, do the lower level one day and the upper another, that’d be great.”

“Oh great, yeah!” Not quite able to process that she actually had the job, Rhiannon’s voice was unnaturally high. “I can definitely do that.”

“Nice, so, you wanna start this coming Friday then?” Clark raised one of his prominent eyebrows.

Rhiannon nodded. “Yes sir, no problem. What time would you like me here?”

Tipping his head back and forth, Clark pursed his lips. “Not too early. Let’s say ten.”

“Perfect. I’ll be here.” Rhiannon smiled and Clark stood to lead her back to the door, eyes trailing after her as she walked away.

***

Sitting in her roasting car, Rhiannon turned the AC on again for a few minutes. It was only 9:25, but she was so anxious about starting the new position she arrived ridiculously early, parking down the road and waiting until it was appropriate to approach the gate. Looking down at her black leggings and sweatshirt, Rhiannon wished cleaning didn’t necessitate such a wardrobe so she could wear something cute in front of Clark. She knew it was silly, he might not even be there. For all she knew some other member of his house staff could be greeting her today, and surely Clark wasn’t going to look twice at her when his love life was a parade of models, actresses, and fellow musicians. But still, Rhiannon would’ve preferred dolling herself up a bit.

Settling for color-fast blood red lipstick, as she knew it was the only thing she wouldn’t sweat off, it finally came time for Rhiannon to go and she was glad when Clark’s voice welcomed her to his estate once more, carrying her supplies under her arm. Wearing beach shorts and a white t-shirt, Rhiannon admired Clark’s muscled calves as he led her inside. 

“Alright, so, if you wanna do the lower level today, I can show you around a bit.” Running a hand through his salt and pepper hair, Clark’s eyes lingered on the shape of Rhiannon’s curvaceous red lips as she looked back at him.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” Smiling, she followed Clark who showed her the chef’s kitchen. 

“I don’t actually know how to cook anything.” Spreading his hands, Clark giggled a little and it was something Rhiannon never saw before. In music videos and ads he was always singing, of course, and in interviews Clark came off stoic to the point of stern. So to see him giggle, face scrunching, left eye squinting just a bit more than the other, top teeth extending well past the bottom ones as the high pitched mirth radiated from his lips, was beyond endearing and Rhiannon couldn’t help but titter in response.

“So you probably won’t have to clean this room much. The chef picks up after himself pretty good.” Shrugging, Clark moved on to the living room. “You’ve seen in here, of course.” Rhiannon followed his broad back down a hallway where Clark abruptly stopped short and she ran into him. “Oh, sorry about that.” Turning around, he lightly rested a large hand on her shoulder, and Rhiannon was grateful for the darkness of the hallway as she felt the blood rise in her cheeks. “Just wanted to show you this closet. Got the vacuum in here and stuff.” 

Peeking inside, Valerie nodded and Clark proceeded to show her the dining room, two bathrooms, one of which had a whirlpool jacuzzi, a guest room, and a home theatre before guiding her back to the living room. “And don’t worry about the actual pool.” Clark gestured outside. “But if you notice any of the lounge chairs need something, you could touch those up, I guess.” He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “Got any questions?”

_Other than, ‘Holy shit, how the fuck am I going to clean all of this in one day?’ Nope, nothing comes to mind, Mr. Honus._ But Rhiannon just smiled. “Nope, I’m good. Thank you, sir.”

“Oh yeah, um…” Clark rubbed a hand down his sharp jaw. “We didn’t talk about the money when you were here last time.” Turning, he glanced around. “I don’t really know what’s fair, but it’s a big fuckin’ house. So like, $1500 a week okay?”

Rhiannon’s eyes went wide. That was almost twice as much money as she made at any previous job. It was painfully apparent how long Clark was rich if he thought that was the going rate for a housekeeper. Thinking of her stack of bills at home, part of Rhiannon wanted to nod, smile, and accept it without a moment’s hesitation. But she respected Clark far too much for that.

“Sir, that’s...just so you know...that’s a lot more than most people would pay…” Shifting her eyes away, Rhiannon swallowed.

Clark’s cobalt blue eyes scanned her. “What, you some kind of trust fund kid that you don’t need money?”

Rhiannon chuckled “No, sir, it’s just that—“

“Good.” Nodding, Clark held out one of his sizable hands. “$1500 then.”

Smiling in resignation, Rhiannon shook his hand. “Deal.” 

Getting to work, Rhiannon piled her mass of scarlet waves on top of her head in a loose bun. By the time she got to the second bathroom she was getting warm, so Rhiannon shed her hoodie, scrubbing in her tank top.

Curious, Clark tried to casually check on Rhiannon’s progress while picking at a bowl of raspberries. Strolling by the bathroom, he saw Rhiannon bent over the tub, forcefully digging a brush into the porcelain and panting, black leggings stretching across her round ass as it wiggled back and forth with the efforts of her movements. Clearly able to see the outline of her panties, Clark knew he should keep walking, knew he shouldn’t be standing there leering at her, but he was transfixed as Rhiannon leaned in further, moving from her knees to her toes to reach the back edge of the tub, Clark getting just a peek at the outline of the slit between her thighs. _Oh fuck…_

Suddenly sitting back on her heels and wiping the sweat from her forehead with her wrist, Rhiannon spotted him. “Oh hey, Mr. Honus.” Pink faced and smiling, her gloved hand waved at him.

Caught, Clark nearly choked on a raspberry and passed it off as a clearing of the throat before he could respond. “Hey, uh...everything going alright?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, Rhiannon pulled the front of her tank top away from her body a few times in an attempt to cool herself and Clark saw a hint of her black bra. “Did you need something?”

Mind spinning through a dozen things Clark felt he needed from her just then, he gritted his teeth and reminded himself to be professional. “No, no. Just wanted to make sure you had the hang of things.”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Thank you, sir.” Grinning, Rhiannon returned to her duties and Clark tore his eyes away, chiding himself.

Managing to make it through all of the areas that needed attention, Rhiannon packed up her gear, hoodie tied around her waist, and saw Clerk sitting in the living room watching TV. “Okay, well, I’ll be back on Tuesday then. Same time?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, sir. See you then.” Getting up, Clark walked her to the door.

“Do you, um…” Clark glanced at her bucket of cleansers and tools and the mop over her shoulder. “Do you want help getting that to your car?”

Rhiannon tilted her head at him curiously. After all, she’d been hauling it around all day. “No, I’ve got it, sir. Thank you though.” With a little nod, they said goodbye, Rhiannon climbing into her hot car, grateful her first day of work went well.

***

Tuesday started out much the same. In a loose blue silk button up t-shirt that made his eyes dazzle and dark beige linen pants, Clark showed Rhiannon around upstairs. Aside from his home office and a study, it was all bedrooms and bathrooms, and she quickly set to work. About halfway through the day, she could hear music floating up the beige and metal staircase from below. Clark was cranking _The Who_ and after the first chorus of Baba O’Riley, Rhiannon couldn’t resist. Sneaking down the stairs, she crouched low when she saw Clark standing in the middle of the living room, eyes closed and arms raised, playing air drums and occasionally singing as he jammed along, lost on the current of the music. 

Covering her mouth to contain her glee. Rhiannon shifted up another step, praying Clark wouldn’t open his eyes as she watched his body move to the music. The way Clark bit his lip, brow furrowed in concentration as his large hands moved over the invisible drum set, was devastatingly erotic and as she slid back upstairs before the song came to an end, Rhiannon knew she would treasure the image of his enraptured face.

Entering his room for the first time, Rhiannon was agog. California King mattress spread out before her, it took a lot of self-restraint not to roll around in it. Or at least jump up and down a couple of times. But Rhiannon maintained her professionalism, cleaning his room methodically as she did any other.

Day drawing to an end, Clark once again walked Rhiannon to the door. “Hey, so I figure I’ll pay you on Friday? Give you a week and a half’s worth? Just to keep things regular, you know, going forward, if that works.”

“Oh sure. That’s no problem, sir.” Rhiannon nodded, smiling. Hoisting up her supplies, Rhiannon went home, exhausted but glad.

***

On Friday Rhiannon was slightly crestfallen when a woman answered her buzz at the gate. Approaching the door, she was unreasonably relieved when she found out it was the gardener, a lovely middle aged blonde that went by the name of Marcia. She informed her that Clark was out, and that he said to let Rhiannon in, and if he wasn’t back before Rhiannon left, there was apparently an envelope for her on the kitchen counter.

Awash in the scent of bleach and her own sweat, Rhiannon heard Marcia leave and, realizing she had the gargantuan house all to herself, decided she would sing to pass the time.

After an afternoon of meetings with executives who tried to screw him on product placement deals and promotional campaigns, Clark was aggravated as he walked through the front door, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter and peeling off his jacket in a huff. A woman’s singing voice reached his ears and, blinking, Clark furrowed his brow, following the source of the sound.

Happening upon Rhiannon, she was standing and spraying suds off the shower door as her voice climbed over The Blue Jean Committee’s _Walking Shoes_. But it wasn’t as Clark ever heard it before. Singing at perhaps half the normal tempo, Rhiannon’s voice, which had a sultry, smoky quality, imparted a poignant complexity, almost a solemnity to the tune, as well as the occasional run of notes, that Clark never would’ve thought possible in that particular song.

Leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, a soft smile played over Clark’s lips as he watched her, the acoustics of the bathroom delightful as the sounds died away and she turned around.

Rhiannon screamed like she was being murdered and Clark couldn’t help but fold over on himself in giggles, slapping his leg and stomping his foot. “Oh I’m sorry.” He wiped his eyes, trying to contain himself, but giggles continued to squeak out. “But that was too good.”

Covering her face with both of her hands, Rhiannon leaned back, only to realize the wall she cleaned was still wet, and rock forward again. “ _Nooo!_ ” She groaned into her palms. 

“Aw, come on, come on.” Walking forward, Clark peeled a hand away from her face. “You got nothing to be ashamed about. You’re really good.” 

Clark smiled at her, but Rhiannon used her remaining hand to cover her eyes. “ _I. Am. Mortified.”_

“No, no, no.” Removing her other hand, Clark lowered himself, trying to catch her eye. “That was beautiful. Really.” Rhiannon’s emerald eyes flicked up to his own, and after a moment Clark realized he was standing there holding her hands and let go. Clearing his throat, Clark took half a step back. “But yeah, just...don’t worry about it, okay?” He smiled, turning his face away.

Nodding, Rhiannon picked up the sponge dropped in her alarm. “Thank you, sir. That’s kind of you.” Lifting his fingers in a little wave, Clark walked to the living room, part of him wishing he hadn’t scared her so he could still listen to Rhiannon sing.

Completing her tasks for the day, Clark handed her the envelope with her check and smiled. “Oh, one more thing.” Holding up a finger, Clark walked over and picked up a notepad and pen from the table. “This…” Scribbling something on the paper, Clark tore it off and handed it to her. “Is the code to the gate and the security system. Just in case I’m not around again and you need to get in.”

“Oh.” Rhiannon looked down at the numbers, swallowing at their significance. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” Walking her to the door as per usual, Clark paused with his hand on the knob. “Oh, and um…” Blinking, he looked at the floor. “You can call me ‘Clark’ you know…”

Eyes shifting, Rhiannon’s free hand tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Oh, um...okay.” Clearing her throat, she responded in a small voice barely above a whisper. “...Clark.”

“Good.” Face breaking into that crooked, goofy grin, he held the door open for her and Rhiannon walked to her car, unable to stop smiling.

***

Pushing the vacuum over the plush beige carpet of Clark’s bedroom, Rhiannon was finishing up under the left corner of his gargantuan mattress when the vacuum bumped something. Turning it off, she walked around the bed and saw a decorative box, lid half knocked off. Upon approach, Rhiannon blushed. 

Containing handcuffs, silk straps, and lubricant from what she could see, Rhiannon stared down at the box and wrestled with herself internally. _Well, it’s already open…_

Making sure she could still hear Clark’s music playing downstairs, Rhiannon pried the lid open the rest of the way. In addition to the other items, there were also at least a dozen DVD-R’s splayed out on top with labels like ‘ _Courtney,’ ‘Stacy,’_ and _‘Rebecca.’_ Insatiably curious, Rhiannon wondered if Clark would notice if just _one_ went missing. 

Shaking herself, Rhiannon closed the lid and replaced the box beneath his bed. Clark was too kind and generous an employer for her to violate his trust that way. Finishing up in his bedroom, Rhiannon moved on to the next, but as she dusted, her mind returned again and again to the contents of the box.

***

Up too early with an excess of energy, Rhiannon looked at her calendar. Planning to go out with her friend Missy that night, she frowned, wondering if she would be able to finish up at Clark’s in time to rush home, shower, change, and meet her at the restaurant. Rhiannon looked at her phone. Just before 8:00. She foolishly hadn’t exchanged numbers with Clark yet, so there was no way for Rhiannon to call and ask if it was alright to get a head start on cleaning. Chewing her lip, Rhiannon gathered her things, deciding it was worth the risk. The worst that could happen is Clark could ask her to come back later and Rhiannon would have to kill time at a coffee shop for a while.

Pulling up to the gate, Rhiannon was having second thoughts about her decision. _Maybe Clark has me come after ten because he likes to sleep late? What if I wake him up and piss him off?_ Hesitating with her thumb over the buzzer, Rhiannon closed her eyes and pressed it. After a couple of minutes and no response, she tapped her steering wheel. _Well, he did give me the code. And I am less than an hour early…_

Punching it in, the gate swung forward and Rhiannon drove up. Almost tiptoeing up to the house in her anxiety, Rhiannon raised a tentative fist and knocked on the door. Five minutes passed and nothing. Taking a deep breath, Rhiannon entered the security code and the door opened. Creeping inside, the house was quiet and Rhiannon saw no sign of Clark.

“M-Mr. Honus?” Voice barely above a peep, Rhiannon could hardly expect him to hear her, and she raised it half a step. “...Clark?” _Please don’t be sleeping. Please don’t be sleeping. Please don’t be sleeping._ Not bold enough to go upstairs to check if he was, Rhiannon figured if she tucked herself away and started cleaning in the theater first, perhaps when Clark did emerge from wherever he might be, he would assume she came at ten and be none the wiser.

Hauling her supplies to the theater, Rhiannon doubled back to get a bottle of water from the fridge and was on her way to the closet to retrieve the vacuum when she saw Clark.

Long, pale form gliding through the sparkling water, Clark was swimming laps in the pool. Naked. Arm holding the bottle falling to her side, mouth agape, Rhiannon knew she shouldn’t, but something made her take a step forward. Mesmerized by Clark’s body as his strong arms cut into the surface, waves radiated outward as he reached the edge, flipped expertly underneath the water, and proceeded to the other side.

Fingers sliding open the glass door, there was a small voice in the back of Rhiannon’s mind trying to warn her of her foolishness, but it was drown out by the gentle lapping and the sound of Clark’s gasping breaths as he turned his head to the side. Rhiannon always found Clark attractive, but she had no idea he was in such excellent shape, only ever getting hints of his broad shoulders and firm chest beneath his loose, casual clothing. But looking on, Clark’s kicking legs were carved from ivory, the muscles in his back undulating beneath the skin as he cut stroke after stroke through the blue abyss.

Fingers clamping over the near edge of the pool, Rhiannon froze as Clark tossed water from his graying hair, rubbed his eyes, and half a second after spotting her, emitted an exceptionally high-pitched scream.

Having the decency to smack a hand over her eyes, Rhiannon began frantically muttering, “ _I’m sorry, Mr. Honus! I’m sorry...I...I got here early, and...I...I...I’m so sorry…_ ”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Clark brought a hand to his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Shaking her head, Rhiannon kept her eyes covered. “I’m...I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll just go clean now…” Groping in the air blindly, Rhiannon tried to find the door handle.

“Wait a second.” Rhiannon’s entire body tensed at Clark’s voice behind her. Swimming to the edge nearest her to shield himself, Clark rested his arms on top. “You wanna hand me that towel first? You can open your eyes.”

Lowering her hand cautiously, Rhiannon looked anywhere but at Clark as she scurried to retrieve the towel from the lounge chair. Holding it out to him at arm's length, face a deep shade of pink, Clark was still breathing heavily as he reached up to grab it. “Guess this makes us even.” Oceanic eyes staring up at her, Rhiannon met them for the briefest of seconds, the expression on Clark’s face unreadable as she went back into the house.

Clark spent the majority of that day upstairs, and after what happened, Rhiannon couldn’t blame him. On her hands and knees giving the oven a deep clean she’d put off, Rhiannon hit her head on the inside when the sound of the fridge opening startled her.

“Ow!” Extracting herself, Rhiannon rubbed what she hoped wouldn’t turn into a bump.

“Oh.” Clark closed the door, container of pineapple in hand. “Sorry.” Looking down, his thumb traced the edge. “I was just getting something to eat.”

Shifting her eyes away, Rhiannon forced a smile. “No problem.”

Awkwardly silent for a moment, Rhiannon swiped her paper towel ineffectually over a clean spot for want of something to do with her hands. Ridiculously inappropriate things kept floating through Rhiannon’s mind in her desire to fill the silence. _Hey Clark, it was nice seeing you naked today. You’re crazy hot. Wish you were doing the backstroke..._

Eventually Clark cleared his throat. “Are you...are you hungry?”

Rhiannon’s green eyes flicked up to his. Noticing she never ate when she worked, even though Clark told her anything in the fridge was up for grabs, Rhiannon chewed on her lip. “I...I guess I could eat, sir. I don’t want to be any trouble though…”

“No trouble.” Clark shook his head. “Come on.” Rummaging through the fridge, Clark extracted a few other pre-made containers left by the chef, grabbed a couple of forks from the drawer, and directed Rhiannon to follow him to the kitchen table. 

Cracking open the lids, Rhiannon saw some kind of Greek-looking pasta salad, Caprese salad, something with chickpeas she couldn’t quite identify, and in addition to the pineapple, a medley of fresh berries. Giving her the fork handle-first, Rhiannon held it and stared until Clark insistently held the berries out to her. “Come on. They’re really good.” 

Spearing a strawberry, Rhiannon chewed. Clark was right. It might’ve been one of the best she ever tasted. “Thank you, sir.” She nodded, holding her hand in front of her mouth.

“Clark. Please.” Wrapping his wide mouth around a bite of pasta salad, Clark chewed and swallowed before gesturing to Rhiannon with his fork. “So, um…” His gaze was on the table as he picked out a piece of mozzarella. “How long have you been doing this then?”

Pausing to swallow, Rhiannon tilted her head. “What, cleaning?” Clark nodded. “Oh, around five years.”

“Oh yeah? And this, it’s, um...it’s what you want to do?” Able to tell Clark was trying to paper over their earlier discomfort, Rhiannon decided to grit her teeth and carry her weight in the conversation.

“Not really. I mean, it’s not bad. But it’s just a way to make money while I work on my writing.” Whatever was in the chickpea container was delicious. Something Indian, Rhiannon suspected.

Clark took a piece of pineapple before passing it her way. “Really? What kind of stuff do you write?” 

“Speculative fiction.” Seeing Clark furrow his brow, Rhiannon explained. “Sci-fi, fantasy, horror. That kind of thing.” She shrugged.

“Oh.” Clark smiled. “Neat. I never was, um…” Picking out a strawberry, Clark popped it into his mouth. “Much of a reader, but that’s impressive.”

Dark blue eyes flicking up to meet hers, Rhiannon found she couldn’t look back at him for long and studied the pineapple. “Thank you, sir…” Shoulders tensing, she swallowed. “Clark.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Eating in silence for a few minutes, Rhiannon sat back. “Well, si—Clark, thank you. That was delicious. I should probably get back to work.”

“Oh, alright.” Clark grinned. “Thanks.” Putting her fork in the dishwasher, Rhiannon returned to clean the oven. As Clark replaced the containers in the fridge, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, grinning.

***

A month or so went by and they sank into a regular routine. Rhiannon would come and clean, and somehow or another Clark would happen upon the room she was in at lunchtime to ask if she would join him. At first they had a lot of long, drawn out pauses in which they both studied the food as though the assembled ingredients held some sort of secret message. But eventually, once they started discussing music and movies, Rhiannon and Clark found endless common ground.

Clark was shocked to find that Rhiannon was not only a fellow cinephile, but she had a passion for films created well before her time. 

Leaning forward, elbows on the table and food long since finished, Clark held out an excited hand. “Oh, have you seen _The Court Jester_?”

“With Danny Kaye? Of course! It’s brilliant.” Rhiannon lifted a hand to the sky. “Hilarious and so clever. Always find it odd when I’m watching that they push Basil Rathbone so hard in the opening credits though.”

Clark giggled, lifting his hands. “Right? His role is _small_. I get why, of course, but it’s shameless.” Rolling his eyes, Clark shook his head. “Surprised you know that one. 1955 and all.”

“Yeah, well…” Rhiannon chuckled, leaning on her hand. “You should know by now I enjoy the classics.” Eyes meeting, they smiled at one another before glancing away. “Oh jeez,” Peeking at her phone in her pocket, Rhiannon pulled a face. “I better get back to it or I’ll be here all night.” Realizing what she said, Rhiannon’s mouth dropped open and her shoulders tensed. Trying not to look at Clark, she pushed herself to her feet. “Well, thanks again for lunch.”

“You’re welcome.” Watching her walk down the hallway to the back bedroom, Clark wondered what would happen if he followed her, tossed her down on the bed and fucked her senseless. But thinking hard, Clark came to a decision as he packed up the leftovers.

As was their habit, Clark stood to hold the door open for her at the end of her shift. Today, however, Rhiannon noticed Clark fidgeting as they approached. “Before you go, um…” Clark shifted himself in front of the door, taking a deep breath. “So...I have this Hall of Fame thing coming up in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh yeah.” Rhiannon lifted her bucket and mop in acknowledgement. “I heard about that. Good for you, congratulations!” 

Clark nodded. “Thanks, but, uh…” Hands moving behind his back, Clark cleared his throat and looked at the ground. “I need someone to go with me and...so, I’d like it to be you, Rhiannon.” 

Blue eyes locking into her own, Rhiannon dropped all of her supplies, bottles of cleaner rolling over the floor, sponges flopping, her mop bouncing. “Oh _shit._ ” Retrieving a bottle of bleach that sprung a leak, Rhiannon tossed it into the bucket, jogging to Clark’s kitchen for paper towels and frantically trying to mop the chemicals from his expensive wooden floor. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Clark. This might leave a bad stain. _Shit._ ” 

Hopping up to get more paper towels, Clark took her wrist. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But Clark, it’s going to ruin your floor…” Rhiannon swallowed, staring down at the seeping liquid. 

Standing, Clark slid his long fingers down to her hand. “I don’t care.” He shrugged. “I’ll just get them done again. You didn’t answer my question.” Dropping her hand, Clark tilted his head.

Mouth working open and closed in silence for a moment, Rhiannon shook her head. “Clark, I...I’m sorry, I just...I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” She looked away from him.

“Why not?” Clark peered at her closely.

Shifting her weight from side to side, Rhiannon rubbed her elbow with the opposite hand. “Well, I mean...you’re my boss and all and...and this,” Rhiannon glanced around the house. “This is a good job and you’ve been really nice to me. I don’t….I don’t want to mess that up.” She shrugged, chewing her lip. “Besides, you could get any woman to go with you, Clark.” Gazing into those cobalt eyes, Rhiannon searched. “Why are you asking me?”

Sighing, Clark blinked. “Yeah, I guess I could probably find someone else.” He lifted a shoulder. “But this night, it’s, um…” Clark nodded, looking at his feet. “This is really important to me, so…” Staring into her emerald eyes, Clark raised a hand, hesitating for a moment before his long fingers reached up to caress Rhiannon’s face. “I want to be with someone I enjoy.” Polishing her cheekbone with his thumb, Rhiannon couldn’t help leaning into his hand for half a second before Clark let it drop, his eyes darting away and clearing his throat. “So...will you?”

“Clark, I…” Rhiannon shook her head.

“ _Please._ ” It was the note of neediness in Clark’s voice that did it. The pleading in his soft blue eyes when Rhiannon studied his handsome face.

Shoulders curling inward, she rocked forward on her toes. “Alright then…”

“Great.” Clark sighed in relief. “It’s a week from Saturday.”

Smile spreading over her face, Rhiannon nodded. “Okay, sounds good.” Looking down at his floor, Rhiannon frowned. “You’re sure you don’t want me to try to clean this up?”

“No, I got it.” Clark grinned. “You worked hard enough for one day.” Opening the door, Clark raised a hand as she passed, tempted to touch her again, but allowed it to fall as Rhiannon walked to her car.


	2. 2

Finding she didn’t know how to act around Clark during her next shift, Rhiannon tried to hyperfixate on cleaning, as if every spot and scuff did her a personal wrong. Sweaty and certain she would be sore the next day, Rhiannon was making her walk to the door and Clark came to meet her as usual.

“All done?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Rhiannon nodded. “Yup, I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

Shaking his head, Clark scooped up his keys from the table. “Nope. Set that stuff down. Let’s go.”

Confused, Rhiannon looked around. “Um...go where?”

“Gotta get you a dress for next week.” Clark pulled on his shoes, not looking at her.

Dumbfounded, Rhiannon just stared. “Clark, I...I have dresses…”

“Nah,” Tossing his keys in the air, Clark caught them and smiled. “You need something special for this. Come on.”

Rhiannon took a step back. “Clark, I’m not going to let you buy me a dress.”

Taking two steps forward, Clark looked down at her unblinking, just breathing. “Yeah. You are. Call it a bonus if you want.” Staring her down, Clark’s expression was firm. As a man used to getting whatever he wanted, Rhiannon realized the futility of her arguing and sighed.

“Okay.” Shrugging her stuff to the floor, she followed Clark to the garage. 

Unlocking his Tesla, Clark held the door open for her. “Go on.” He smiled.

Barely seeing a car this expensive before, much less riding in one, Rhiannon sat down gingerly, extremely aware of how sweaty she was as Clark pulled away. Once on the highway Clark drove like only a man who laughs at a $300 speeding ticket can, and Rhiannon gripped the door in alarm, but said nothing as they made their way to Beverly Hills.

Rolling down Rodeo Drive, he parked the car and walked around to open the door for Rhiannon, who glanced up and down the street hesitantly. “Come on.” Clark waved, heading toward Christian Dior and Rhiannon shook her head.

“No, Clark. No, no,  _ no. _ ” Holding up her hands, Rhiannon backed away as though the building were on fire. 

Closing his eyes and giggling, Clark took her hand. “Aw, come  _ on. _ ” Dragging her forward, when they made it through the doors Rhiannon fidgeted. In her worn leggings and tank top, it was painfully apparent she didn’t belong there, but Clark stood with his hands in his pockets, looking peaceful as a salesman approached.

“Hello. Welcome to Christian Dior. How may we help you today?”

Clark nodded down at Rhiannon. “She needs a dress.”

“Ah.” The short, buoyant man nodded. “And is this for a special occasion?”

“Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction.” Clark stated simply.

Smiling, the salesman clapped his hands together. “Very good. Come with me.” Leading Rhiannon deeper into the store, she looked back at Clark in fear and he grinned. Seeing how deeply uncomfortable Rhiannon was as the salesperson scurried around, bringing her champagne and retrieving dress after dress, Clark supposed he should feel bad, but he was enjoying himself too much as she disappeared into the dressing room with the first selection.

Emerging in a short, tight cocktail dress, Clark cocked his head. “What do you think?”

Rhiannon looked at herself in the mirror. The salmon dress was all wrong for her coloring, and even though it did wonders for her bustline, the incredibly short hemline made her feel a bit cheap. But she wanted nothing more than for this process to be over with. “It’s great.” Smiling, she nodded and tucked her red hair behind her ears.

Clark examined Rhiannon’s face, catching something behind her eyes. “No.” Turning to the salesman, Clark shook his head. “She doesn’t like it. Bring something else.” 

Looking around sheepishly, Rhiannon went into change again. Clark found himself staring intently at the white door, imagining her undressing behind it and having to blink himself back to reality before he got overexcited.

Opening it, Rhiannon stepped out in a knee-length purple v-neck halter dress. Admiring herself in the mirror, Rhiannon’s hands ran over the ruching detail at the waist, appreciating how it accentuated her curves.

“That.” Clark pointed at her, beaming. “Is  _ it. _ ” Blushing at the way Clark’s eyes climbed over her body, Rhiannon couldn’t help but smile. “Hey,” Clark leaned over to the salesmen. “Get her some shoes to go with that.”

Hurrying away, Rhiannon used his absence as an opportunity to peek at the price tag. “Oh my god.” Bracing herself on the wall, Rhiannon thought she might have a panic attack.  _ How could so little fabric cost so much money? _

“Clark, you  _ cannot _ buy me this dress, it’s insane!” She held up her hands in exasperation.

Gesturing for her to come close, Clark looked at the price and nodded appraisingly. “Oh nice. On sale.”

“ _ What?!” _ Pulling away from him so fast she nearly tore the valuable garment, Rhiannon was flabbergasted. 

“Look,” Clark held out his hands, giggling. “If it makes you that uncomfortable…” He lowered his voice. “I’ll just return it after the awards. No big deal.”

Salesman returning with a pair of matching pumps, Rhiannon gave up, changing out of the dress and allowing Clark to buy it. Driving her back to his place, Clark opened the door for her once again, handing her the dress and shoes before saying goodbye. Rhiannon placed them in her backseat like she was handling a bomb before driving home, still thrown off by the day’s events.

***

Night finally arriving, Rhiannon stood before the mirror in her apartment, attempting to calm herself. Clark informed her after her shift yesterday he would pick her up at home and as she stood in a dress that was worth more than her car, Rhiannon was tempted to bail, make up an excuse, say she was sick, anything to avoid the anxiety roiling in her stomach.

Steeling herself, Rhiannon slung her miniature purse over one shoulder and went downstairs to wait. A few minutes later, a limousine pulled up and out stepped Clark, smiling and looking devilishly handsome in black slacks, a black button up with silver detailing, and a smart, black crushed velvet jacket. 

“Wow, Rhiannon, you look really beautiful.” Clark’s fingers grazed the small of her back as he helped her into the car.

Rhiannon grinned. “Thank you, Clark. You look very handsome.”

Sitting back with a smile, Rhiannon noticed that as they approached the venue it faded, Clark’s mouth settling into a hard line, his hands starting to crawl over themselves in his lap.

“Clark...are you okay?” Rhiannon leaned in.

“Yeah.” But the grin he flashed was forced as his eyes shifted nervously and his fingers tapped on his thigh.

Taking a risk, Rhiannon delicately laid a hand on one of his broad shoulders. “Clark, what’s wrong?”

Eyes looking up and down between her and his hands, Clark opened his mouth, looking vaguely nauseous. “Just...just nervous I guess. You know, Gene and everything…” Clark shook his head.

Rhiannon nodded. She did know. Everybody knew. Things ended terribly between them and it was decades since they’d seen one another. “I’m sure it’ll go well.” Rhiannon rubbed his shoulder. “He agreed to come, right? So that probably means he doesn’t have any hard feelings anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clark looked at her, nodding. “You’re probably right. Thank you.” Taking Rhiannon’s hand, Clark gazed into her eyes. Fingers interlacing, they leaned into one another. Rhiannon could smell him. A mix of bergamot, citrus, and something she couldn’t quite place.  _ Clark. _

The sound of the partition rolling down startled them apart. “Here you are, sir.” The driver called back before coming around to open the door for them. 

“You ready?” Clark asked, squeezing Rhiannon’s hand.

She nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” Clark smiled. “Let’s go.” 

Emerging to the flashing lights of photographers, a barrage of people asking questions, and a milling crowd, Rhiannon was immediately overwhelmed, but Clark placed a strong hand at the small of her back, guiding her effortlessly through the fray with confidence. Occasionally they stopped for pictures, Clark putting an arm around Rhiannon’s waist, looking sexy and stoic as he typically did whenever she saw him in print, as Rhiannon attempted to do something with her face that she hoped didn’t look ridiculous. 

Making it inside, the hall was massive, and in a flash Rhiannon saw half of the faces in her record collection walk past, all stopping to congratulate Clark on his big night. An organizer approached them and Clark and Rhiannon were led backstage, where it was mercifully much quieter, to wait until the ceremony began. With fewer people around, Rhiannon saw hints of Clark’s nerves surface; a twitch of the hand, a clench of the jaw, and giving herself over to the night, she stroked Clark’s arm.

“You’re going to be great, Clark.” Rhiannon said in a soft voice so no one else would hear. 

Tilting his head down, Clark blinked. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” After wanting to for so long, Rhiannon couldn’t resist lifting a hand to cup his sharp jaw. “I’m really proud of you.”

Blue eyes looking back, Clark’s hand caressed her waist before someone in a headset came up and tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Five minutes, Mr. Honus.”

Nodding, Clark made his way to the wings. Standing behind him, Rhiannon could see who she thought was Gene on the other side of the stage, and she rubbed slow circles into Clark’s back as they waited for Michael McDonald to finish presenting the award. When he made a crack about Clark, Rhiannon found herself fuming, but he just chuckled. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen: The Blue Jean Committee!” McDonald spread his arms wide and the crowd broke out in raucous applause.

Spinning around, Clark took Rhiannon’s face in both of his big hands and before she could react, his soft, pink lips pressed against her own. 

“Sorry,” Clark shook his head as he pulled back. “But I couldn’t wait anymore. And I need the luck.” With a smile Clark kissed her forehead briefly before heading on stage.

Awestruck, Rhiannon barely absorbed Clark’s speech. It wasn’t until he began singing that her brain tuned back in and she was able to appreciate what was happening. Strolling off the stage, Clark was beaming as he approached her and Rhiannon draped her arms around his shoulders, fingers winding into his graying hair.

“I’m so happy for you.” She whispered against his ear as Clark swayed them back and forth.

Clark kissed her neck. “Thank you.” Then Rhiannon brushed a kiss to the spot where his jaw met his neck. Clark kissed her cheek. Pausing with their mouths an inch apart, they both realized that they couldn’t start making out in the wings. Not only because it was a little tacky, but because once they started, they weren't going to stop.

Gritting his teeth, Clark let out a slow breath. “Okay, let’s, um…” Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Let’s go.”

But it wasn’t that simple. As one of the men of honor, Clark was subjected to interviews, more photographs, and a plethora of interactions with his peers, including one with Gene that, though awkward, could definitely have gone worse in Rhiannon’s opinion. 

Clark recognized as he answered the reporters questions that due to his mounting sexual frustration, he was coming off brash, but as he looked at Rhiannon and wanted nothing more than to be alone with her away from the crowd, he couldn’t bring himself to care much. Plus, being an asshole was his brand, so Clark wasn’t too worried as he gave hasty one-word responses and did everything he could to escape.

Door of the limo shutting, Clark couldn’t raise the partition fast enough before he brought Rhiannon’s face to his own, joining their lips, her curvaceous mouth opening beneath his as he hummed in relief and tangled their tongues together. 

One arm hooking under Clark’s vast shoulder, the other played with his hair as Clark’s hand found her waist before trickling down to knead Rhiannon’s round ass. Tossing her leg over his lap, Clark tried to guide Rhiannon on top of him but she broke away.

“No, Clark. The dress!” 

Shaking his head fervently, Clark took her by both hips. “I don’t care.” Dragging Rhiannon over until she was straddling him, Clark pushed her skirt up to her waist. Licking into Clark’s mouth, he pulled her hips down, and Rhiannon felt the outline of his stiff cock through his slacks, chirping with delight. Grinding into him, Clark began thrusting hard, parting from her lips and panting into Rhiannon’s mouth. 

“Mmm...fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Panties growing moist, Rhiannon’s hips moved faster. “Fuck, me too, Clark.” Kissing her again, Clark’s hand slid up the inside of her thigh, thumb dipping beneath the fabric of her panties and grazing her clit.

The sound of the partition rolling down caused them to separate from one another with a theatrical smooching noise, freezing for half a second before Clark looped his hands behind her ass to cover Rhiannon’s exposed flesh.

“Sir? Did you want to go back to the Malibu address first or West Hollywood?” Sounding unfazed, Rhiannon figured the driver saw this sort of thing all the time.

“Malibu, please.” Clark called out, and as the partition rolled back up they giggled excessively.

“Maybe we should wait until we get back to your house.” Rhiannon suggested, fingers playing with the buttons of Clark’s shirt.

Thrusting against her one last time, Clark sighed. “Alright. Good idea.” And patting her ass, Rhiannon climbed off. 

“Don’t want you to hold back screaming, anyway.” Clark said, half to himself before looking at her out of the corner of his eye, mouth spreading into a slow, sexy smirk. Rhiannon blushed, and the rest of the ride they found themselves rather squirmy as the only thing they allowed to touch was their hands.

Finally reaching his house, Clark tossed the driver a generous tip and they rushed inside, mouths fusing together as they attempted to make their way to the stairs, stumbling as they groped. Halfway up the beige staircase Clark had her skirt bunched up around Rhiannon’s waist, grinding his erection against the crack of her ass as he snuck a hand down the neckline of her dress to massage her breast. Rhiannon leaned back against him and had Clark’s strong hand not grabbed the railing just in time, they would’ve toppled down together.

“Fuck.” He breathed. “Bedroom.” Both nodding, they proceeded up more carefully and once in his room, Rhiannon pushed the velvet jacket from his expansive shoulders as Clark reached for the hemline of her dress, tugging it overhead to pool on the floor. Nimbly unbuttoning his shirt, Rhiannon exposed his firm chest, fingers dancing through Clark’s smattering of dark hair as they made their way to the bed. Climbing back on the gigantic mattress, Rhiannon reached behind herself and undid her bra, casting it aside as Clark shrugged out of his slacks and boxers.

Rhiannon stared at his massive cock in disbelief. It felt large while they were making out in the limo, but much of Clark’s personality was suddenly explained as he crawled in the bed after her. Peeling away her panties, Clark settled on top of her, mouths meeting as Rhiannon spread her legs and he began gliding his cock through the slick lips of her pussy. Rotating his hips, Clark was massaging her clit with the head and shaft of his cock, and Rhiannon began moaning under his mouth.

“Mmm...you like that?” Clark bore down harder, look of determination in his dark blue eyes as he undulated above her. “You like when I rub you with my cock?”

Rocking her hips up, Rhiannon nodded. “Yes, Clark, yes! That feels so good.  _ Fuck! _ ”

Moving faster, Clark dipped down to kiss her neck, nipping and licking as his strong hands caressed her breasts. Then suddenly he shifted to the side, provoking a whine of discontent from Rhiannon at the loss of friction. 

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Clark lowered himself, sucking one of her nipples between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. “Did you want more?”

“Yes, Clark!  _ Fuck! Please!” _ Rhiannon knew she was begging, knew it probably sounded undignified, but Clark had her wound so tight she didn’t care.

“How about if I touch you?” Strong, gentle fingers working between her thighs, Clark spread her lips, index and middle finger sliding alongside her swollen clit. “Hmm? Would you like that?”

Rhiannon drew her fingers through his hair. “ _ Yes, I love it, Clark. Yes! _ ” Applying direct pressure with every third stroke or so, Clark caught her mouth in a passionate kiss before two of his lengthy fingers entered Rhiannon, curling upward and hitting the soft patch of nerves at the same time his thumb began rotating over her clit. 

With a cry of desire, Rhiannon broke their kiss, pelvis rising from the bed at the sudden stimulation before Clark’s other hand guided her back down. Beginning to firmly pulse inside of her, Rhiannon dug her fingers into his shoulder as she drove herself down on his hand. Clark could feel Rhiannon fluttering around his fingers as the pitch of her moans rose and her eyes clenched shut.

“You gonna cum for me, huh? Am I gonna make you cum? You gonna cum all over my fingers? Come on. Do it.  _ Cum for me, Rhiannon. _ ”

Nails grazing his skin, Rhiannon’s thighs quivered. “ _ Fuck, Clark! Yes! Yes! I’m cumming! Yes!”  _ Mouth agape, she continued to twitch as Clark removed his hand and began kissing his way down her body, cupping her breasts and licking her nipples as he went.

“Mmm...I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Clark purred, brushing his lips over the inside of her thighs before diving forward to lick Rhiannon open with his tongue, spreading her thighs wide and digging forward with his sculpted jaw.

“ _ Oh Clark! Oh fuck! _ ” Rhiannon’s legs snapped shut about his ears as he began lapping at her clit, flicking it, rolling his tongue around it, and then clamping his lips around it and sucking. 

“ _ Clark! Fuck! FUCK!”  _ Shamelessly humping his face, Rhiannon rocked from side to side as she dripped down Clark’s chin. Holding her hips still in his strong hands, Rhiannon couldn’t escape the sensations and she tugged at his hair, body seizing as her ankles jittered across his back and her eyes rolled.

Rising and wiping his face, Clark nuzzled into Rhiannon’s neck, thumb passing over her nipple. “Did you like that?”

Unable to formulate words, Rhiannon nodded weakly and Clark grinned. Extracting a condom from his bedside drawer, Clark combed the sweaty red hair away from her face, kissing Rhiannon’s forehead, her cheek, her mouth. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Opening her eyes, Rhiannon saw the soft expression on Clark’s earnest face as he caressed her and she nodded. “Yes, Clark. Please. Fuck me.” Meeting her mouth again, Clark spent a couple of minutes intertwining their tongues before parting, rolling the condom over himself, and positioning the head of his cock at Rhiannon’s entrance.

“You ready?” The pads of Clark’s fingers flowed over her face.

Rhiannon nodded. “Yes.”

Surging forward slowly, Rhiannon gasped at the stretch as Clark’s thick cock expanded her. Letting out a deep groan, Clark rested against her forehead. “ _ Fuck _ , Rhiannon, you feel so good.”

Clark began swiveling his hips, snaking an arm between them to fiddle her clit in time with his movements. Rhiannon planted her heels in the mattress, rising to meet Clark and moaning.

“You like that? Huh? Does that feel good?” Clark asked in between capturing Rhiannon’s mouth. 

“ _ Yes, Clark! Yes! So fucking good! Don’t stop!” _ Words spurring him on, Clark lifted one of Rhiannon’s legs over his shoulder, coming up on one of his knees, and began pounding into her recklessly.

Cock penetrating so deep Clark was rattling noises from her Rhiannon never dreamt possible, her body almost seemed to move of its own volition as it slammed against him, the sounds of their clapping flesh resounding off the bedroom walls.

“ _ Fuck! Clark! I’m gonna cum! Fuck!”  _ Screaming, Rhiannon clawed at his back and Clark’s face broke into a delighted grimace.

“Fuck yeah, cum for me. Cum on my cock. I wanna make you cum so fucking hard, Rhiannon.  _ Yes! Fuck! Cum for me! _ ” Hammering her into the mattress, Rhiannon convulsed beneath him, whites of her eyes all that was visible beneath trembling lashes as she soundlessly mouthed his name, her body constricting around Clark’s sensitive cock. 

A high, strangled moan rose in his throat as Clark let down her leg, laying flat. Clark hooked both arms beneath Rhiannon, crossing them behind her back and clutching her as close to him as possible as his hips rocketed forth. 

“ _Rhiannon! Yeah! Fuck! Yeah!”_ Clark whimpered, forehead against hers, strong fingers digging into Rhiannon’s shoulders as his movements grew jerky and unstable. “ _Fuck_ _Rhiannon, I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”_ Body flexing in silence for a moment, a melodic whine tumbled from Clark’s lips as he shivered and shot forward once more before falling atop Rhiannon, limp and exhausted.

Kissing along his crisp jaw, Rhiannon’s fingers played over Clark’s sweaty back as they both came down. Pushing himself up, Clark kissed her, brushing back Rhiannon’s hair and grinning before rolling off and gathering her into his arms.

Clark drew small patterns on Rhiannon’s skin. “You really helped me out today, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” Rhiannon craned her neck back to look at him.

“Having you with me.” Clark’s pretty blue eyes pierced her. “You made me feel like I belonged there.” Fingers tracing her collarbone, Clark swallowed and had to look away. “I don’t remember the last time someone said they were proud of me.”

Spinning in his arms, Rhiannon fingered the tendrils of hair at the back of his neck. “I’m so proud, Clark. And I’m proud to be with you.”

“Me too.” Smiling, Clark kissed her, arms drawing tight around Rhiannon as they folded together, grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also take requests!


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